


Christmas in the room

by Crescentjasper



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: 26 years after, Angst, Dancing, Fluff, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Passage of time, Post good ending, Songfic, connor misses Hank, platonic, some existential fuckery, stupid fluff, xmas fic about not celebrating xmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 07:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17157638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crescentjasper/pseuds/Crescentjasper
Summary: It's the 20th of December, Markus helps Connor with the grief of losing a family member





	Christmas in the room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KittenBloodCoffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittenBloodCoffee/gifts).



Snow was dancing in slow motion across Connor’s field of vision, the view separated only by two layers of clear glass and the framework of his apartment window. He watched as each flake descended through their temporary brilliance before they joined with the vast ocean of white that now was the city.

With an artificial mind built to focus and capture, he found himself following individual little clusters, documenting their intricate formations before they fell out of sight. He only stopped when he realized the information served no purpose, leaving his gaze blurred and unfocused where he looked out to the world outside.

Connor had learned he disliked temporary things. It didn’t really matter how beautiful they were in the moment when his processors so eloquently preconstructed their end. He saw winters of snow as generations of humans, with millions of unique individuals falling through life, never to be noticed in the masses. The cold landscape was new and different with each winter, though to a forgetful eye it might look the same as the years before.

A single snowflake settled on the windowsill in front of him, displaying its complex symmetry for him to see. The outline of it vaguely resembled the old Cyberlife logo, and he frowned with the roused memory. In his reflection Connor could almost imagine his model number back on display, indicating that he was nothing but a product, a lesser thing. Thoughts of the old company sent a coldness down his back and his shoulders tensed mechanically, as if the very idea of Cyberlife might threaten to return him to his factory settings.

He was never meant to feel, not really. Connor came to envy the small object for its inability to think and ruminate, because to it, love was nothing and loss was nonexistent, for a snowflake couldn’t experience life. Even so, it was able to drift so effortlessly in its path, indifferent towards the rest of the world, unknowing of the thoughts weighing down Connor’s body like viscous tar.

 

Over the years, friends and family had taught him to look past his mechanical thought patterns, to sometimes let go and enjoy a moment for what it was, but these days it was like he’d forgotten it all. Maybe he didn’t even want it, maybe he would have given back his deviancy if given the chance.

Connor idled and watched as the white cityscape dampened, yielding for the shadows of night. Christmas lights became visible where the rest of the city faded, saturating the darkened snow with artificial warmth.

 

His fingers were restless, aching for the coin he no longer owned. That simple quarter had been left behind long ago, but his mind still wouldn’t allow him to forget it. Holding it was in his programming, the shape and feel of it resided in his coding, but there was only one coin in the world that felt right in his palm. Its familiar marks and dents would never brush against his thumbs again, its weight couldn’t dance across his knuckles like it used to.

Connor tugged his sleeves down to cover both hands, wrapping his arms around his himself to compensate. A sliver of comfort came with his own cold touch, and he let it linger.

 

There was no christmas this year, not for him.

He closed his eyes, blocking away the world around him. This year there was nothing. No lights inside, no tree to decorate, no gifts to give and no Hank.

 

Connor had been alive for 26 years now, and for the first time around the holidays, he couldn’t smile with the rest of the world.

That year had taken Hank away from him. Taken the man who’d first seen that spark of life within the cold shell of his programming, let his individuality blossom even when he was not allowed one. Despite his past, Hank had taken Connor in and called him his own, taught him to live and showed him kindness previously reserved only for humans.

He’d been a friend and a father figure for all those years since. They’d been family.

But in his absence, the coldness of winter sunk deep into the fibers of Connor’s chassis. Had he been organic, he’d be shivering through nerves and flesh. Maybe he’d grow skinny from neglecting to eat, maybe he’d turn to alcohol for comfort. But his hands remained perfectly still, no abnormalities in his movements, for his components were constructed from steel and plastic and toxins. When he was alone, sorrow didn’t make him grimace, he had no need for social protocols when the only person looking back at him was his own blank reflection in the darkened window.

 

The snow seemed to manifest itself whenever there was turmoil in Connor’s life.

He could recall days of the past with extraordinary detail, as an android’s memory did not falter over time as it did with humans. Every significant event was carved in stone, as clear as the moment it had happened, where it would remain until filed away or deleted from their hard drives.

Snow had accompanied almost every difficult event of his life, but he couldn’t let himself forget any of them. Each memory represented a necessary puzzle piece in the picture that made him Connor. He needed them with him no matter how badly they hurt.

Though in that moment, all but one heartache seemed irrelevant to him.

It had been February when Hank passed away, already ten months ago. Though it had been expected for months beforehand, Connor had never truly been prepared to lose him.

A life without Hank had been as incomprehensible as an earth without the sun. It was an impossibility, so contemplating a time after hadn’t seemed necessary to him.

Connor had never doubted a part of himself would die with the old lieutenant.

He just hadn’t considered the other part left behind to live on after.

 

Without him, there was an open wound where there should have been a heart. Maybe he’d left that behind too in Hank’s grave, resting safely in his still embrace along with that coin and his old LED ring.

Connor didn’t think he’d ever rid himself of the LED, as it had become a part of him just like his eyes and nose and ears. But it seemed void of meaning without Hank there to see it. It was always he who liked it the most anyway, made it easier to tell what Connor was thinking, he used to say.

Though it could no longer convey any emotions to him, it had felt right to leave it resting in Hank’s hand. The familiar component had looked as grey and lifeless as the man holding it.

Had the LED still been connected back then, it would have glowed in a bright crimson, reflecting the sorrow coursing through his thirium lines. But his light had gone out for good.

The world was a much darker place without Hank.

 

A whole life lived, from the innocence of childhood, through the times he’d laughed and the times he’d cried. The love and hardships, memories and his whole self, all lost with the ceasing of a human heart.

There was no new body to be transferred to, no backups to leave behind. He was gone with the relentless currents of time, while Connor could go on for as long as society remained.

It wasn’t fair.

But it was reality.

 

 

Connor’s thoughts were guided back to the present through familiar sounds in his audio processors. A pair of footsteps approached the apartment door, followed by the subtle rustling of keys and a click as the lock mechanism was released.

 “Con?”

When he turned to look, he was met with a silhouette blocking the light from the hallway. A hand reached to the side to flick on the lights, and Connor blinked with the re-calibration of his optical units. The other android closed the door behind him before coming over. He opened a second collapsible chair and sat down by his side.

“You’re still sitting here.”

Markus’ mismatched eyes met with his own, his brows gently furrowed with concern. He was offering his full attention, like he always did whenever the other was hurting. A hand slipped into his palm, letting its warmth pass through to Connor’s own cold joints. Another hand fell on top of it, enveloping it.

“You haven’t moved from this spot today, have you?” His head tilted slightly, gaze shifting between the other’s two brown eyes. Unsure how to respond, he settled with breaking their eye contact instead. Silence rested between the two before Connor spoke.

“Do you remember what we did last year? Or the year before, on this day.”

“I remember what we did every year on the 20th.” He was offered a sad smile as Markus’ fingers rose to his forehead. He brushed back that stray lock of hair, only to watch it slide back into place the next moment. It hung there as a perfect flaw, unaltered for those 26 years. The world kept changing around them, but androids remained the same.

“Why would you ask that?”

Connor shook his head with a light frown. “Sometimes I wish we could just forget it all and start over.”

“Who would we be if we did?”

“Not us, probably.” He gave a half-hearted smile. That conversation always ended the same.

 

This was the first year they couldn’t stay with Hank on the 20th. That day had been dedicated to the old lieutenant and his family every year. For Connor’s first holiday, it had just been him, Hank and Sumo. The next year Markus had become part of the family too, and tradition remained the same even after Sumo passed away.

He still loved them all dearly.

 

While animals and humans were born to die, androids were built to last. At least he’d have Markus and their friends by his side for a long time, because he couldn’t possibly handle another loss quite yet.

The urge to wrap his arms around Markus and never let go bubbled within. He shuddered with it, hand trembling where the other android held it. Funny how they only did so in the presence of another person, as if his systems desired nothing for him if he were alone. He had to push down the impulse screaming for him to grip that palm as tightly as his hydraulic joints could manage, for he might as well have broken it if he did.

“This is the first year we can’t go to him. I knew it would be hard, but this…” eyes closed as he shook his head. “I miss him.”

The other android looked down, pursing his lips in thought. A thumb was rubbing the back of his hand, gently exploring the arcs of his slim knuckles. “Remember how he’d try to decorate you with tinsel instead of the actual christmas tree?”

Connor’s eyebrows arched with surprise at the change of tone, but he found he actually appreciated it.

“I’d say I wore it better anyway.” A ghost of a smile played with the corners of his lips. “He seemed very offended when we refused to try his home-baked cookies.”

“Connor, you licked them.”

“I’m programmed to do that. And I was just trying to be polite.”

Markus huffed humorously and shook his head, giving Connor’s hand two affectionate pats. “He was a good man, Connor. Anyone who knew him would miss him.” He paused with a deep breath to emphasize the weight of his words. “I miss him a lot too. Especially today.”

This time it was Connor’s turn to look up with concern. It was all too easy to forget another person’s grief when he was already blinded by his own. Hank had been family for both of them. Only twice in his life had Connor seen him truly come undone. The first time being when they lost Carl, second time earlier that year when they lost Hank. Markus was just a little too good at hiding his own hardships so he could be there for those around him.

If only he could offer Markus the same words of comfort as a human might, tell him they were still out there somewhere, happy and at peace. But it would have meant nothing, because Connor believed in no such afterlife.

 

At least Hank hadn’t seemed scared of death in the end, or maybe he’d just put on a mask for their sake. He’d simply insist he might see Cole and Sumo again soon. Though Connor yearned to believe it too, his logical coding wouldn’t allow him the luxury. The afterlife was simply a matter of human fiction, no more real to him than Santa Claus or Harry Potter.

Perhaps there was a chance Carl, Hank, Cole and Sumo still existed in parallel timelines somewhere across the multiverse, if given an infinite amount of realities.

At least their existence in the past was forever set in stone, engraved into the fabric of time as a vital part of reality, where they would remain for as long as the universe existed. Though if time was simply an illusion held by living beings, maybe none of them had really existed in the first place.

That idea took a U-turn from being vaguely comforting to sending cold chills down his spine in less than a second. He absentmindedly clutched Markus’ wrist with the unease.

 

“Connor.”

Processors jolted back to the present, quickly re-calibrating where sounds had become muffled and his vision blurry. The chills thickened and dissipated as his senses regained their optimal setting.

“Don’t dwell on what hurts, not today. It’s not what he would have wanted.”

Connor gave a faint nod, releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Markus was right. Today was the 20th, and the rule was nobody close to Hank got to be sad or alone on that day.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Don’t be.”

Unable to hold back any longer, Connor freed his arms to lean forward and wrap them around the other android. He buried his face into his shoulder, and warm palms rested on his back in response. They moved in gentle motions, calming as waves lapping against the shore.

“Love you.” His own words were muffled against fabric and synthetic skin, but the meaning behind them remained untouched.

A hand cupped his hair, brushing through his short dark locks. Connor felt a small amount of information travel from the other’s fingertips, like a soft burst of static. There weren’t any words, just an emotion of warmth and affection that conveyed more than spoken words ever could.

A gentle heartbeat filled Connor’s ears, and he synchronized his own thirium pump with it.

Maybe he could pretend his own heart thumped in a firm rhythm like Markus’ did. That the pulse wasn’t drowned out by loud and synthetic swishing that rang through both of their ears when they stood close. It was a constant reminder of his manufactured body, a noisy pipework of thirium lines resonating through a hollow chest.

How could Markus find comfort in such a noise?

Humans hadn’t seen the need to build worker androids heavy like the caretaking ones. While Markus was fitted with layers of synthetic flesh and heavy steel, Connor was left with nothing but the necessary components and structure.

He was built hollow, so maybe he was meant to feel that way too.

 

Through his proximity connection, Connor switched on the stereo of their apartment. He picked the first song they’d ever danced to together, hoping it wasn’t out of place in that moment. It began playing quietly, just for the two androids to hear.

Both of them breathed out in unison, that song never failed to melt the whole world away, even from its first echoing piano notes. They were swept away from the present until nothing else mattered but each other.

It was Markus who led them to their feet, filing his fingers in-between Connor’s once again. The other hand came to rest against his mid back, and Connor copied the movements, pulling himself close enough to rest in the embrace.

They moved with the lyrics in silence, losing themselves within the sways as a serene voice and familiar words filled their ears and hearts. The connection between their palms opened almost independently, playing the song within the interface as well. The two androids were so comfortable with one another, their systems had come to recognize the other as an extension of itself.

 

They danced like it was just another christmas, like the room was lit up by warm fairy lights, decorated with green, red and gold.

They danced as if they were back to their very first christmas together. When the two of them were moving and laughing in Hank’s living room, with Sumo spinning excitedly around their feet. Hank had been watching them from the sofa, chuckling wholeheartedly with their inexperienced waltz.

If they closed their eyes it was almost as though they were back there again, and Connor’s whole chest ached with longing.

 

He’d woken up when it was fall, they’d lost Hank during the winter. Markus became family when it was spring. What summer had in store for him in the future, he didn’t dare to think about.

Though androids were built to last, not even they could remain forever. Someday both of them would be gone too, washed away from the world, their consciousnesses snuffed out as if they had never existed at all.

But it didn’t matter.

Because in that moment no future or past needed to exist.

 

It was the 20th of December, the day for those in Hank’s family to feel safe and happy.

Maybe just for tonight, they could live and laugh together, honor the old man’s wishes even if he was no longer there to see it.

They could dance and sing, pretend like they hadn’t abandoned the holidays that year. Because if they shut their eyes and held each other close, it was almost like christmas blossomed back into the room around them, like nothing was different from all the years before.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sufjan Stevens - Christmas in the room  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MkDbICM9mwE
> 
> (The song they listened to together was Koda's cover of Video Games)
> 
> Love you toaster, merry xmas <3  
> 


End file.
